


better not to breathe than to breathe a lie

by thekaidonovskys



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Miscommunication, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 06:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5733928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you wanna go on a date?”</p><p>“I'd like that.”</p><p>“Great," Clint says, then buries a hand in Phil’s hair and draws him in for a deep kiss.</p><p>Phil goes with it, because he likes kissing and likes Clint and both of these things are good things. But he does have to break away after a few moments to give Clint a raised eyebrow. “Date?”</p><p>“Yeah yeah,” Clint mutters and drags him close again, hands on Phil’s hips. “Maybe I’m just giving you a taste of what’s gonna be for dessert.”</p><p>Clint pushes Phil back against the counter, presses their hips together, and Phil -</p><p>Quietly, silently, and immediately freaks out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently fighting with my in-progress verse, so while I wait for that to start behaving again I thought I might post some of the stuff I've written and had sitting around on my computer for almost a year now. This piece in particular is important to me and it was time to share it.

When Phil stops in at Clint’s floor on his way home from work, briefcase in one hand and Clint’s latest briefing documents in the other, he doesn’t expect it to be anything more than a routine drop.

But Clint _grins_ when he sees Phil, and steps aside in clear invitation, and really, Phil can’t just hand him the documents and leave now, nor does he want to. So he enters Clint’s apartment - he’s no stranger to it or anything - and follows Clint to the kitchen, accepting the coffee almost absently as he hands over the documents. “They need to be read and signed for by Thursday,” he says.

“I’ll look them over tomorrow.”

“Busy tonight?” Phil’s just curious - usually Clint gets documents out of the way pretty fast.

Clint eyes him over the rim of his coffee mug, then puts it down and leans against the counter. “I’d like to be," he says. "You, uh, got any plans?”

“Me?” Phil suppresses a chuckle. “No, just me and my TV.”

“Want to have some plans?”

Phil slowly and carefully absorbs that, setting down his own mug. “What kinds of plans are we talking here?”

Clint shrugs. “Dinner? A nice restaurant, good food, even better conversation, and great company?”

“So like… a date?” Phil’s been uncertain for awhile; it’s seemed like Clint’s been extra friendly lately, borderline flirtatious, but Phil wasn’t sure enough to do anything about it. He’s been out of this particular game for a _very_ long while. 

Clint shrugs again, looking a little defensive. “Like a date. Or… a date.”

“Well,” Phil says lightly, “I’d say yes to either, but I prefer the latter.”

Clint lets out a slow breath of clear relief, and smiles. “So you wanna go on a date?”

“I'd like that.”

“Great," Clint says, then buries a hand in Phil’s hair and draws him in for a deep kiss.

Phil goes with it, because he likes kissing and likes Clint and both of these things are good things. But he does have to break away after a few moments to give Clint a raised eyebrow. “Date?”

“Yeah yeah,” Clint mutters and drags him close again, hands on Phil’s hips. “Maybe I’m just giving you a taste of what’s gonna be for dessert.”

Clint pushes Phil back against the counter, presses their hips together, and Phil -

Quietly, silently, and immediately freaks out. 

He steps away, pulling out of Clint’s grip, and fumbles for his briefcase. “This was… a bad idea. I shouldn’t -“

“Phil?”

Phil shakes his head. “I can’t. I’ve got to… go.”

Before Clint can say another word, Phil sidesteps him and is out the door. The lift hasn’t gone to any other floors, thank god, and slides open as soon as Phil hits the button. He jabs the close button, then leans against the wall, pressing his forehead to the metal. 

_Shit_.

He should’ve known. He should’ve known _better_. There’s a reason Phil doesn’t do the dating thing, and that’s because dating requires dates, plural. And Phil never manages to make it past the first date, probably because he’s far too forthcoming. Not about his job - that’s a whole other security clearance issue right there that’s better suited for the third date - but about his sexuality. 

Apparently being told that you’re not even going to get some after the third date is a bit offputting. 

But Phil believes in honesty - because if he’s not honest about his asexuality, _this_ shit happens. Because now he’s ruined any chance he had with Clint, and didn’t even get one good date to remember out of it. He should have been upfront immediately…

Except that would have been presumptuous. And it probably would have led to no date at all either. 

Eventually Phil realizes the lift isn’t going anywhere, and remembers to push his number. It’s a short trip and when the lift stops at his floor Phil peels himself off the wall and heads down to his room. He’s walking slowly, head down, the perfect picture of a forlorn, rejected man - even if the rejection was his own fault - and pauses to rest against the wall for a moment before keying the door open. 

Where he comes face to face with Clint. 

Phil meets his eyes for a long moment, then sighs and walks past him to dump his briefcase on the stand and toe off his shoes. “We’ve talked about breaking into my rooms,” he says, shrugging off his suit jacket and hanging that up. “We agreed I won’t up the security as long as you don’t abuse it.”

“I’m not abusing it.”

Phil snorts, unknotting his tie and tossing it through the bedroom door as he walks past. “Yeah? Where’s the emergency?”

Clint follows him to the living room, leaning against the wall and watching as Phil slumps onto the couch. “Right here,” he says quietly. “You looking this dejected. Because a few minutes ago, I’d honestly never seen you happier, and then I apparently fucked up big time and I need to know how to make amends and put that smile back on your face. Not just so I can get a date out of it - if that ship’s sailed then okay, guess I missed out - but because I don’t like you being upset.”

Phil stares at him for a long moment, then groans and scrubs his hands over his face. “Can you not be noble and _kind_ right now? It’s not your fault. You didn’t fuck up.”

“Something fucked up.”

“I fucked up. I - I’m fucked up.”

“Woah, okay, hang on,” Clint says, crossing the room and perching himself on the edge of the coffee table, facing Phil. “What do you mean by that?” Phil shakes his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and Clint sighs. “Look, I don’t think you fucked up, and I certainly don’t think _you’re_ fucked up. Can you just… step me through this? Because you agreed to a date, right? You wanted that?”

Phil sighs and nods. “Yeah. Still do, for the record.”

“Date is still on the table - figuratively and literally, as it turns out.” Phil rolls his eyes and Clint smiles a little. “It wasn’t my bad sense of humour that scared you away either, good. And the kissing?”

“Fairly obvious that I was enjoying that.”

“Yeah. Me too. So then - the innuendo?”

Phil shrugs. “Less the innuendo, more the… the promise of it.”

“The implications of us having sex?” Clint asks bluntly. “Or the part where I shoved you up against the counter?”

Phil winces and nods. “That.”

Clint nods too, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I was being stupid and cocky and screwing around and I know I took it too far, I didn’t - I’d never push you for anything you don’t want. If you don’t have sex on the first date, then that’s cool. We can totally take our time.”

Phil doesn’t say anything for awhile. This is horrendous, because Clint is being so _sweet_ and incredibly earnest and doing everything he can to set Phil at ease - but he’s making this all so much worse. Because the only time Phil wants to talk about is infinity. 

He considers his options. He can agree to Clint’s assumptions, go on the dates, and wait for a better time to bring this up. He can say no, cite some personal reason - he knows Clint won’t pry. 

Or -

_I’d never push you for anything you don’t want_. And Phil knows Clint means every word.

Phil sighs again and meets Clint’s eyes. “I don’t want sex on the first date,” he says, and Clint nods. “I also - don’t want it on the third date, if that happens.”

“Okay, easy.”

It’s about to get a lot harder. “Or the… fifth. Hypothetically. If we got there, and I'd like it if we did. I'd like to get to the twentieth too, or the fiftieth, or hundredth, but I won't want sex then either. Or - or on our anniversary, or as a birthday present, or to celebrate our engagement, or on our wedding night, or ten years from now as a happily married couple.” Clint blinks a few times and Phil screws up the last of his courage. “I don’t like sex. I don’t want it. Ever. I’m asexual.”

Then he closes his eyes and waits for the inevitable response.

“Oh, god,” Clint murmurs after a moment.

Phil nods because that’s a pretty accurate start. Any minute now Clint will be making his excuses and heading out and - 

“Oh, shit, Phil, I must’ve made you so uncomfortable. _Shit_. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Phil furrows his brow, then slowly opens his eyes. 

Clint is wide-eyed earnest _worried_. He’s watching Phil closely, biting his lip, and guilt is evident all over his features. “God,” he mutters again. “I don’t blame you for not telling me, but you can’t say I didn’t fuck up. I fucked the hell up. Are you okay? Do I need to back off - I can give you some room, I’m not here to - to try anything, I swear.”

Phil just keeps frowning, watching him. When Clint tries to stand, clearly taking Phil’s silence as assent, Phil reaches out and grabs his wrist. “You’re not… okay, you’re freaking out, but not - not _because_ of it.”

“No? Why would I?” Phil’s left floundering and Clint gets his wrist out Phil’s grip, only to take his hand instead. “Phil,” he says quietly. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?”

Phil is fifty-two years old, and he’s known he’s asexual since he was twenty. He’s had thirty-three years to come to terms with himself, to accept that being different does not equate to being wrong, to understand that not wanting sex is not a bad thing, and to assure himself that being alone because nobody else can quite see points one and two like he can is okay. He knows nothing is wrong with him, because he would not have gotten this far in life without that knowledge.

So when Clint says that, so soft and hushed and _sincere_ , it makes perfect sense for Phil to burst into tears. 

“Fuck, _Phil_ ,” Clint murmurs, and Phil feels him moving, sitting down next to Phil. “Can I - I really want to hug you but is that…?”

Phil just holds out his arms. Clint scoops him up and holds him tight and Phil is definitely going to stop this ridiculous crying soon. Very soon. He swears.

It takes at least ten minutes for Phil to wind down. Clint holds him the whole way through, and shows no signs of letting go even when the tears are dried up and Phil’s left sniffling pathetically and hoping his eyes aren’t red (they absolutely are). “Feeling better?” Clint asks softly, and a tentative hand comes up to stroke Phil’s hair.

Fuck that’s nice. Phil sighs and closes his eyes - if Clint isn’t letting go, Phil isn’t going to try to leave. “Yeah. God. I’m sorry about that.”

“No need to be. Sometimes you just need a good cry - especially if someone makes a move on you without your consent. I’m seriously so fucking sorry, Phil.”

Phil looks up. “I’m not angry at you,” he says. “How were you to know?”

“Why should I have presumed?” Clint asks in return. “Even if you were sexual, I should’ve known better - not everybody wants to jump into bed immediately. And some people don’t want to at all, and that’s okay. It really is - you know that, don’t you?”

“I do know.” Phil sighs. “I guess it’s just different hearing it from someone else for a change. Usually I’m the one trying to justify it as people make their excuses and leave - and I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“What, in the second I gave you between agreeing to a date and sticking my tongue down your throat?”

Phil smiles a little. “Perhaps before running away in a panic?”

“You were in a panic. Sensible decisions don’t tend to happen then. Realistically you would’ve told me after the date, right?” Phil nods. “Then you didn’t do anything wrong. I took things too far. Please at least acknowledge that.”

Phil shrugs. “If I’m acknowledging it, then I accept your apology but still don’t blame you. If your nature is sexual and you like to take people to bed quite quickly, then it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m just… the opposite.” He sighs and pulls away, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “So, look, if you want to pull the date off the table -“

“That is the _last_ thing I want, Phil. Have we not just clarified that I don’t see a problem with you being asexual?”

“I know that much. But there needs to be a certain level of compatibility, and now that you know I can’t match it -“

“Oh, bullshit,” Clint says calmly. “Do we or do we not have the best banter of anybody in this tower? You laugh at my jokes - _nobody_ does that. I know how to make you laugh after a bad day when all you want to do is rip throats out. You are the only handler I’ve ever accepted because you’re the only one who’s ever gotten _me_. And I get you. We have fun together and work well together and know each other so well. We are _fucking_ compatible. You think I’m going to give up on that - on _you_ \- because you don’t want sex? You think I ever _could_?”

“But you…” Phil shakes his head, trying to clear it. “You’re sexual.”

“Sure I am. But I want a date with you - many dates, in fact - and I want them a lot more than I want to fuck you.”

“But you do want to fuck me.”

Clint sighs. “Phil. Yes, okay, fine. But I’m not broken up about the fact that I won’t get to. I’m way too elated about the fact that I _get you_. I’m stupidly head over heels for you, and all I want to do is shower you with ridiculous amounts of romance and enjoy having you around.”

“And when that’s not enough anymore?”

“Well, you can dump me, because I’m clearly an asshole,” Clint says quietly. “If I stop appreciating you because of things you can’t give me, you tell me to fuck off. I’d like to think that I’m more than just a sexual being - just like you’re more than an asexual being. Is that a fair assumption?”

Phil looks down because wow, that’s hit home. “It is,” he says. “I’m sorry - you’re right. Back when I actually dated, I’d get so annoyed that people wouldn’t look past the asexual thing and see _me_ , and now I’m doing the same to you. I guess I’m just pessimistic - relationships always seem to lead to sex.”

“This one won’t, alright? And you’re worried about months to come where I get annoyed about not being able to have sex with you? Well, guess what?”

Phil frowns. “What?”

“I’ve been not having sex with you for _years_. I think I can handle it.”

Phil stares, then snorts with laughter. “Well, that is a very accurate point,” he concedes, Clint grinning. “By the way, when did one date turn into dating?”

“When I decided I’m not letting you go anywhere,” Clint says with a shrug. “Problem with that?”

“Not at all. Apart from everything already stated, but you’ve shut it all down so effectively that I can’t really argue.” Clint chuckles, and Phil smiles tentatively. “So - how do you want to handle sex? If you need someone on the side, I can understand it, but I’d -“

“Okay, hang on a second,” Clint says, taking his hands. “We have literally _just_ gotten together. Right now my only focus is you. And apart from that - look, I might have given a bad impression. I’m not sex-obsessed. I don’t need… I have wants and desires and all that, sure, but most of those can be dealt with quite easily on my own. Sex is nice and all, but Phil, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any anyway. I am _really_ good at jerking off.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Phil says dryly, his lips twitching with a smile. 

Clint squeezes his hands. “Where’s your limit?” he asks. “We were kissing pretty deep and you seemed into it, and I trust you to end things when you’re uncomfortable, but I’d rather not let you be uncomfortable at all.”

“I enjoy kissing,” Phil admits, feeling like a teenager as he tries not to blush. “And making out. That’s about where I draw the line - anything further would either turn me on, which is where I get uncomfortable, or just make me feel… gross.”

Clint presses a kiss to his cheek. “Okay. Me getting turned on is probably a huge no?”

“I won’t run away screaming because of an erection,” Phil says. “I may just put some distance between us and be a little skitterish about touch until things have subsided.”

“Understandable. Nudity?”

“You can take your shirt off all you like,” Phil says bluntly, and Clint smirks. “I would prefer we stay clothed, but I’m open to experimentation.”

“Okay. Sorry - I’m sure there’s a better time to bring all of this up. You have just agreed to be my boyfriend, after all.”

“You are forty-five and I am fifty-two,” Phil says, slowly raising an eyebrow, “and you choose _boyfriend_?”

“Yeah. Deal with it.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Phil says mournfully, shaking his head. “You’ve just negotiated a non-sexual relationship and made a whole lot of concessions for me, but _boyfriend_ might just be too much for me to handle.”

Clint grins. “So is the date off the table again?”

“Well yes, because he’s on the couch with me. Which is a good place for him and he can stay here for at least another ten minutes while I get changed so he can take me somewhere nice.”

“Done deal. C’mere a minute.” Clint draws Phil in and kisses him, soft and slow. “I’m looking forward to a lot more of this,” he says when they part.

Phil smiles. “So I still get dessert?”

“Yeah,” Clint says softly. “Just a different flavour.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soon enough, coffee and conversation are abandoned in favour of kissing, slow and unhurried and perfectly sweet. Clint gives Phil tacit control of the situation, following Phil’s lead and showing no signs of wanting anything more than Phil is prepared to give. And he’s happy, Phil realises with sudden certainty; Clint is actually delighted to be here with him doing just this and nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love on the first chapter! How could I stop now?

The first date goes shockingly well.

But it's also not a shock at all, because they've always been good at spending time together. Too many isolated missions, hours spent on stakeout together, with nothing to do but keep one another amused while they wait. Clint knows how to make him laugh, and Phil always enjoys hearing his seemingly endless recitation of wild stories. He shares his own in return, and Clint seems genuinely interested in hearing them.

It's a short date - they're both aware of having work in the morning, so keep it to coffee at a nearby cafe - but it's still enough time for them to both agree that they're in this, that this is a definite, real, exclusive, romantic thing. And, as work permits, more dates continue to happen. More often than not it's a snatched lunch together, or dinner in one of their apartments as they work around paperwork and field reports, but it's still time together - time that doesn't involve a safehouse, and does involve kissing and hand holding - and that's what matters.

Finally, their schedules align. A week long op finishes with a shockingly good result, and Fury, in unprecedented good cheer, approves 72 hours leave for everybody involved. Neither Clint nor Phil plan to take the entire time off, but it does allow them to actually to go out on a proper dinner date. They veto the almost obligatory movie beforehand, choosing to spend time enjoying proper food for the first time in a week, and one another's company in person instead of through earpieces. Phil spends an almost embarrassing amount of time looking into Clint's eyes, and doesn't even care.

By the end of the night, lingering over coffee and tying the table up for far too long, they're holding hands over the table and neither one seems to be able to stop smiling. The night isn't even ruined when a couple of fellow patrons recognise Clint and approach for autographs - but they do wrap it up shortly after, taking a cab back to the tower in comfortable quietness.

Once they arrive and are waiting for the lift, Clint glances at Phil, squeezing his hand. "Want to come up for coffee?" he asks.

"I'm sure we were just drinking coffee," Phil points out, smiling.

Clint grins. "Yeah, but I know you love your caffeine." The lift arrives and they step in, Clint pressing the button to his floor then hesitating over Phil's. "Up to you," he says. "You know it's not a line - I'm just not ready to say goodnight yet."

"Neither," Phil says, then draws Clint in and kisses him.

They've kissed plenty more times since that first night, but after a week where they've hardly so much as been in the same room, Phil feels like it's been forever since he's kissed Clint. Clint clearly feels the same, because neither one realises that the lift is at their floor until JARVIS discreetly alerts them to the fact. Thankfully Natasha isn't hanging around like she sometimes does, there'd be no end to the teasing.

Once inside, Phil can't help but tense, just waiting for it to get awkward. Instead, Clint leads him to the kitchen and sets the coffee going, chatting away about his feelings on being approached in public. "Like, it's sweet and all when its kids," he says, "and with the adults, if it's shortly after some world crisis I get it, it's gratitude. But the rest of the time it's kinda weird. If there's no emergency, I'm off the hero clock, and I forget that people still see me as an Avenger."

"For some of them, it's just another celebrity to add to the collection," Phil points out.

Clint wrinkles his nose. "Not really the celebrity type. Nothing I own is designer, and I spend less than an hour on my appearance every day."

"You're still attractive enough to be classed as one," Phil murmurs.

"Thanks, baby," Clint says, then catches himself and blushes. "Um. Was that -?"

"Anything that makes you blush like that is good news in my book," Phil tells him solemnly, and Clint snorts and slaps him lightly. "But it's fine. Good, even."

"I'll take good," Clint says, pouring the coffee. "I'm only a little bit sappy, honest."

"If you say so," Phil says, smirking a little, and follows him back to the living room.

At first they sit like normal adults, side by side, sipping their coffee and talking about things like work and the other people they live with. But soon enough, coffee and conversation are abandoned in favour of kissing, slow and unhurried and perfectly sweet. Clint gives Phil tacit control of the situation, following Phil’s lead and showing no signs of wanting anything more than Phil is prepared to give. And he’s _happy_ , Phil realises with sudden certainty; Clint is actually delighted to be here with him doing just this and nothing more.

It’s a little overwhelming, and Phil has to break off the kissing for awhile to just take it in. Clint doesn’t ask, just draws Phil close and fucking _holds_ him for ages. Phil feels like he should be feeling stupid, like an awkward teenager still figuring shit out, but he doesn’t feel stupid, that’s the thing. He feels happy and content and, once he takes everything in, like this is right. All of this is right, and there’s nowhere else he wants to be.

(Maybe it’s too soon to be thinking this deep, but Phil doesn’t care about that either. He’s not going to admit _aloud_ that he’s been in love with Clint for at least three years by this point, but he’s come to terms with it within himself by this point.)

After awhile of just sitting there, Phil figures something should probably happen - he just isn’t sure what. “How much of your leave are you taking?” he asks.

“Hm? Um, probably gonna allow myself the luxury of sleeping in until at least six - if my body lets me, after all the early hours of this week.”

“I hear that. I imagine I’ll be waking up frantically at four trying to figure out whether we missed our window or not."

Clint chuckles. “I’ll be trying to figure out why I’m in a proper bed,” he says. “But yeah, I’ll at least try to take the morning off before I’m sure I’ll get restless. Is this your way of hinting that you should leave because heaven forbid Agent Coulson take more than six hours of leave and you need to go and file some reports?”

“Don’t mention them or you’ll give me a guilty conscience.” Phil does think for a moment of the stacks of reports he needs to fill out for the finalization stage, then pushes that thought aside, because that’s definitely not why he asked. “No, I was more wondering what time you wanted me to leave. I definitely don’t want to rush out, but when you want me to go, just say the word.”

Clint kisses the top of his head, then sighs. "In the spirit of honesty," he says, "I don’t want you to go at all; I want you to stay the night,“ Phil's heart sinks - but it doesn't get too far, before Clint's continuing. "I just kind of want to cuddle with you for as long as I can, and falling asleep with you this close is really appealing. But I don't want that to make you feel pressured or anything -"

"Are you going to pull a bait and switch and demand sex once you have me in your bed?" Phil asks, sitting up so he can look at Clint.

Clint wrinkles his nose. "That's disgusting. Of course not."

"Then take me to bed."

“You’re sure?”

Phil gives Clint his best unimpressed look. “It has been _years_ since I’ve cuddled with anybody, let alone in an actual bed. I’m very sure.”

Clint grins, and they quickly disentangle. “I have to admit,” he says, “I thought, before all this, if we ever got together that I’d scare you off by admitting what a huge sap for cuddling I am.”

“Well it doesn’t exactly go with your big brave Avenger image,” Phil says, laughing as Clint pulls a face. “But I’ve been your handler for years now, Clint - I’ve always known what a huge sap you are.”

“Are you trying to get kicked back out of my bed?”

“And send me back to my lonely apartment with my reports that I won’t be able to help but stay up all night doing?”

Clint laughs. “Okay, okay, I’ll save you from yourself.” He leads Phil to his bedroom - Phil’s been in it a couple of times, but he still needs a moment to adjust, which Clint uses to open a dresser drawer and pull out a pair of sweatpants, and another drawer which contains an emergency field pack. Clint extracts the toothbrush from it and hands both to Phil. “And since I’m extra generous, you can have the bathroom first.”

“Such a gentleman,” Phil says, steals a kiss, then heads to the bathroom.

It’s only once he’s done and Clint’s in the bathroom that Phil takes a moment to stop and just look at the bed. He’s shared beds before, countless times, but usually always in the context of an op and always as a result of not having enough beds. He’s used to lying side by side next to someone, pretending that the other person isn’t there and trying not to impose on their space. He’s not used to being wanted in somebody’s bed.

He’s still standing there when Clint comes back out, and turns to look at him with a sheepish smile. “Which side’s yours?” he asks.

In answer, Clint sprawls himself across the middle of the bed. Phil, rolling his eyes, turns off the main lights then stands at the side of the bed and surveys Clint. “If you want me to _share_ your bed, the key word is -“

Clint grabs his hand and tugs, and Phil, laughing, just avoids landing on top of him. There’s some playful nudging and kicking as they get comfortable and switch the lamps off, but soon enough they’re settled, curled around each other in a way that’s already familiar and something Phil could get far too used to. And the thought isn’t even that frightening anymore.

“Is this what you wanted?” Phil asks quietly.

“This,” Clint murmurs, “is what I’ve wanted for… an embarrassingly long time.” He laughs, hugging Phil a little tighter. “But to answer your question without being ridiculous, yes, this is definitely what I wanted.”

“You’re not the only ridiculous one,” Phil says.

“I’m really glad to hear that.”

There’s nothing more to be said. Phil falls asleep faster, easier, and happier than any other night he can remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The morning after.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint opens his mouth, then stops and looks down. "Okay, this is gearing up to be a proper serious conversation, and I was always taught you need to be wearing clothes for those."

Waking up the morning after any op is always an adjustment process. Phil wakes with a jolt, then lies very still and allows himself to recalibrate to being off duty, safe, with no requirement to leap out of bed and get to work, and in his own -

But.

This isn’t his own bed.

Phil blinks a few times, then turns his head and -

Oh.

This is Clint’s bed. And that is Clint, propped up on one elbow, with messy hair and sleepy eyes and a ridiculously sweet smile aimed right at Phil. “You sleep like the _dead_ when you’re off duty,” he murmurs, “but you’re fucking adorable too. Just saying. Good morning.”

Phil finishes processing, yawns, then rolls onto his side and into Clint’s personal space. “Morning,” he mutters into Clint’s shoulder. “Five more minutes.”

“The _most_ fucking adorable,” Clint informs him, wrapping an easy arm around Phil’s shoulders.

Phil yawns again. “M’not keeping you against your will am I?” he asks. “Usually you’re shooting things by now.”

“Hm, let me see - a cold gym with potential for Tony Stark to be lurking, training in my down time; or a warm bed with my boyfriend who is shockingly tactile when he’s half asleep. It was a tough decision.”

Phil laughs. “Still with the boyfriend thing?”

“You’re my partner in the field, I need to differentiate.”

“I’m your primary agent and handler in the field, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Either way, we’re not in the field, and I don’t care what I call you as long as I get to keep you.”

“You can keep me,” Phil says, his voice a bit quieter and more serious than anticipated.

Clint hugs him a little tighter in response and Phil curls closer, closing his eyes. He’s not going back to sleep - that ship has sailed - but the idea of just lying here with someone who wants to keep him is enough to have Phil stay for as long as he can. Clint seems to be in no hurry to leave either - and for the two of them who can never stay still, this is really something - and they lie there together for god knows how long, Clint occasionally tracing absent patterns on Phil’s shoulder.

But eventually all good things end, and Clint gently lets go, sitting up before Phil’s even thought about moving. ”Okay,” he says lightly, “as lovely as it is lying here with you, it does mean that morning necessities beckon. Be back soon."

Clint's already in the bathroom with the door shut by the time Phil realises what necessities might arise from Clint being in bed with him that would require him to disappear that fast. When he does, he can't help but feel a bit cold.

It's not that he's disgusted. Phil is a grown ass man who can handle normal bodily functions (as long as they don't have to happen in his general vicinity whenever possible), and the smart sensible part of his brain is pointing out that it's actually a compliment. But Phil's too caught up on the fact that he's essentially kicked Clint out of bed - out of his _own_ bed - so he can go and do something perfectly natural in a way that makes it seem almost shameful.

Clint's already going to have to make so many concessions for him - this just feels like too much. Phil sighs, sitting up and tucking his knees up to his chest, listening to the shower run and waiting for Clint to come back so he can apologise.

When Clint does emerge, wrapped in a towel with his hair sticking up, he's already surveying Phil, sighing sadly before Phil can speak. "Damn. Okay. That was me trying to make this a complete nonissue and seeing if we could just do this without needing to have a long awkward discussion, but that's not gonna work."

Phil sighs too. "I'm sorry."

"What? No, shit, I'm sorry - I shouldn't have made that decision. I'm trying to make it easier for you, but I don't actually know what easier means for you, and I don’t get to make that call.”

"Why are you trying to make it easier for me?" Phil asks, genuinely befuddled. "I'm the one putting you out so much."

Clint opens his mouth, then stops and looks down. "Okay, this is gearing up to be a proper serious conversation, and I was always taught you need to be wearing clothes for those." Phil chuckles, and Clint smiles. "You want to have a shower too? I can make a start on breakfast - because nobody should have to talk about emotions on an empty stomach - and then we'll sit down like adults and work out what we're feeling and how to stop feeling it. Plan?"

"Plan," Phil agrees, and heads off to follow it, up to his own apartment for clean clothes and a quick check of his email before he showers. As long as he focuses on what he has to do next, he doesn’t need to think about how they got here - which, he realises as he’s finishing up his shower, is one of the mind tricks he learned in his early days of SHIELD to keep moving forward after a disaster.

He really shouldn’t be using survival and grief training to get through his fledgling relationship. Phil has a very bad feeling about what state said relationship might be in by the time they finish their conversation.

But when he lets himself back into Clint's apartment, he follows the sound of humming to the kitchen, and Clint's smile at Phil is as easy as ever. “Great timing,” he says, turning the heat off and dishing up a fucking omelette of all things. “Yeah, I cook,” he says when Phil raises an eye at the plates. “I know I don’t seem the type.”

“Why on earth do you stay back for dinner most nights and put up with SHIELD food if you could come home to this?”

“Laziness,” Clint admits. “That combined with dedication to my work, which makes an odd combination but ultimately results in dismal cafeteria food. Is it just me, or is it getting so much worse?”

“I feel like they’re actually putting effort into _not_ trying to make good food,” Phil agrees.

That discussion takes them through breakfast, Phil relaxing as the meal and conversation go on. He almost forgets about what’s coming next, until Clint stops him from taking his plate to the sink, guiding him instead towards the living room. “Okay,” he says once they’re sitting on the couch, both turned sideways so they can face each other, with Phil’s heart starting to hammer. “Can I start?"

Phil shrugs. "Sure."

Clint takes Phil's hand, lacing their fingers together. "You've made me really appreciate the small stuff," he says absently, then blinks and laughs. "Not what I was going to say, but there's that too. I hope you know that, Phil, that you're here because you bring happiness to my life. And you seem to be convinced that you're an inconvenience, which makes me really sad."

Phil shrugs again. "You've had to compromise for me," he says. "This morning -"

"Now, see, this is what I was actually going to tell you," Clint interrupts. "This morning was a normal morning for me in nearly every regard. Woke up, jerked off in the shower, went about my day. The only difference was that I had you here - and not only is it so damn nice to have you here, but you also fit into that routine perfectly."

"But this isn't a normal morning for when you wake up with someone in your bed, is it?"

"Hm? Well, no, not really. Those sorts of normal mornings consist of stilted conversation, awkward offers of breakfast, and an empty apartment fairly quickly. This -" Clint gestures to the two of them, "is much nicer."

Phil sighs. Clint is clearly determined not to make this easy. "I don't mean one-night stands. I mean past relationships."

"You're not them, Phil," Clint says firmly and immediately. "And if I still wanted them, I'd still be with them. I want you. I get what you're trying to say - in other relationships, if I'd woken up horny, we probably would've had sex, sure. But so what? In one of my other relationships, we spent a lot of time playing tennis, because that's how we enjoyed spending time together. I don't see us doing that, and it doesn't invalidate the relationship if we don't. We share our mutual shared interests, and don't try to force the other to do something they don't want, and that's it. That's how relationships work. Are you gonna get pissy if I don't want to help you collect trading cards?"

Phil chuckles despite himself. "No," he says, and Clint smiles. "But is... is sex really just another interest? I've heard people say it's the be all and end all of everything."

Clint rolls his eyes. "Sure, it's fun and nice and all that, but I'm not gonna die if I don't get some - and I'm not going to be bitter if I don't get some from you. Like I told you, I haven't had sex in awhile anyway. It's not like I can't still have orgasms - and hey, if you're cool with it, I can come and cuddle with you afterwards because I go all sappy after orgasms if I get the chance. That'd be nice. But if it'd gross you out -"

"It wouldn't," Phil says, then smirks. "Cuddly and sappy. I'm looking forward to this."

"Good," Clint says. "Because that leads me to my important question - what do you get out of this?"

"This? You mean us?" Clint nods, and Phil frowns. "I just... I enjoy being here. Spending time with you. You make me happy, and you make me laugh, and I can relax around you like I can't with anybody else and - and I just like you. A lot."

He wants to look away, feeling stupid for his incoherency, but Clint did mention they were talking like adults, so Phil keeps eye contact and tries not to blush.

But Clint's blushing too, just a little, and smiling. "And I like you a lot too," he says. "All of those things you said, I feel the same. That's enough for you to be happy with me?"

"Of course it is."

"Good. Same here. Just don't think about the sex part, alright - or think of it like your trading cards. If you need a Cap fix, you'll take your alone time and go do... whatever you and the cards do alone together." Phil rolls his eyes and Clint smirks. "Same principle," he continues. "When I get horny, I'll deal with it myself. It's not your issue. Simple as that."

"It sounds too simple."

"Well, good. Because the rest of our lives aren't simple at all, so... so can we make this time here with us as easy as possible? Something to escape the rest of the world with? And we'll just be who we are and enjoy our time together as we see fit and - and be happy?"

Phil can't resist kissing Clint, who makes a happy noise and melts into it. "I'm happy to be happy with you," he says when they break apart. “And in the future - if you’ll have me here again - I hope we can make it a nonissue just like you did this morning.”

“Consider this the most open of invitations. Be here as often as you like.” Clint takes his other hand, holding them both and looking at Phil very seriously. “I know this is fast and all, but shit, Phil, I haven’t looked at anybody else since the first time we were in the field together. I’m in this for the long term. You don’t have to feel the same, but I want you to know that.”

“You remember about a minute ago when I told you I like you a lot?” Phil asks, and Clint nods. “That was me trying not to say that I’m probably definitely in love with you. And I probably have been for awhile. So long term sounds good to me too.”

“Oh god, that’s a relief,” Clint says in a rush. “I nearly told you I love you at least ten times when we were in bed this morning, didn’t want to scare you off.”

“You’re not scaring me off,” Phil promises. “You’re probably going to be hard pressed to get rid of me today, actually.”

Clint chuckles. “I won’t be trying hard. Wanna go train together?”

“The kind where we train side by side in our respective areas, or the kind where you insist on challenging me and I thrash you yet again?”

“I’m gonna beat you in hand to hand one day,” Clint swears, and Phil laughs, because no he isn’t. "No, the kind where we head to the gym with the best of intentions, are met by a very knowing and smirking Natasha, and decide to go hide instead."

"As exciting of a morning as that sounds," Phil says wryly, "perhaps a counter offer of one of SHIELD's private shooting lanes?"

"You want to watch me shoot?"

"I thought maybe you could teach me to shoot... again."

Clint's eyes light up. "You mean not only do I get to be super smug when you get all grumpy because _the_ _bow must be broken, Clint_ -"

"I'm telling you, there had to be something wrong with that equipment - I couldn't have made that arrow go vertically if I tried."

Clint smirks. "Not only that," he continues, "but I get to wrap my arms around you all day and have a legit reason to do it. Hell yes I'm in."

"You are such a sap," Phil says, delighted.

"And you're adorable," Clint says seriously. "But we have plenty of time to be cute - right now I want to watch you pretend to be a marksman."

"We can't all be Hawkeye."

"Damn right. Some of us need to be Hawkeye's boyfriend."

Phil rolls his eyes and nudges Clint towards the door. He's never going to let on how much he likes being called that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a next chapter, but I'm not exactly sure what it'll be next. Or when it'll be. But there is more to come!


End file.
